


Worth Determined

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Antiquated Views, Come Inflation, Creampie, Daughter kind of enjoys it, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Father/Daughter Incest, Humiliation, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Slut Shaming, Squirting, Stomach Bulge, Threesome - F/M/M, Uncle/Niece Incest, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-13 17:27:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21001430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When Maral's strict father catches her exchanging racy texts with her boyfriend, he and his brother perform the dreaded 'virginity test.' Maral has no idea what to expect, but the procedure goes beyond what she would've ever imagined.





	Worth Determined

**Author's Note:**

  * For [indigo_inks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_inks/gifts).

Maral was in huge trouble. Her father had seen the texts between her and Sam, and they left no room for imagination. Earlier in the afternoon, she’d sent a nude albeit with her legs closed and her hands covering her small breasts. Sam’s responses had been quite enthusiastic, typical of a 15-year-old boy, but one was particularly damning:

_I’m the luckiest guy in the world cuz I get to enjoy such a hot body and pretty face. _

Lying on her bed, Maral sighed and set the phone on her nightstand, draping her arm over her eyes. That text, when she’d received it, made her feel giddy and hot. She liked the feeling of being _hot_. In a school full of blonde, blinking girls, she stood out with her large, dark eyes and black hair. This was a good thing, Sam assured her; she was _exotic_.

And now it had gotten her in major trouble. Father had simply read the text and handed her back the phone, a most bizarre reaction. Usually when he went through her phone and found something he didn’t like—a “trashy” selfie, a suggestion from a friend to cut her hair or wear a bikini—he lashed out, hit her, and went on a deleting spree. This time, he’d been calm. He was planning something, she suspected.

Whatever it was, she was safe for the moment, for he was locked in his study with his brother and a bottle of brandy. Maral hated Uncle Aras. He was rude and snide and just plain _foul_. She planned on spending the remainder of the evening tucked up in here. 

That plan lasted all of ten minutes before her door swung open—heaven forbid Maral have _any _privacy whatsoever—and her father waltzed in, reeking of brandy and intent to punish. He pointed a finger at her face and bared his teeth. “You’d better not be on that damn phone.”

Maral only blinked. Answering back would only make things worse. Anyway, he could see for himself that she was not on the phone. _Why is he not taking it away? What is he planning?_

“Get up and follow me,” he commanded.

Heavy with dread, she rolled off the bed and trailed after her father down the hall. Her parents’ bedroom door was closed, indicating Mother was fast asleep. Probably a good thing, as Mother tended to turn into a weepy mess when Father lashed out.

But where exactly were they going, then? Had Uncle Aras gone home? Maral hoped with all her heart he had, but doubt was stronger. Father had no qualms about hitting his wife and daughter anywhere, in front of anyone. No one would speak against Spring Valley’s most esteemed lawyer, even if he was a foreigner.

Sure enough, Uncle Aras was seated in Father’s study, apparently waiting for the entertainment of the night, his niece’s punishment. Maral disregarded him for the moment to look around the room, since she’d never been in there before. She’d imagined it as a sort-of compact library and that was not far from what she saw, except there was only one shelf of books behind the large oak desk.

It was this desk where she spotted something unusual: a silk white cloth draped over the surface. At once, her heart pounded much faster and her hands shook hard, even though she had no idea why it would be there. Her father was leading her toward it.

“Stand right there and face me.” 

Maral obeyed, happy to have the odd white cloth out of her sight, although its replacement, her uncle in the armchair, wasn’t much better. Aras leered at her like a prisoner presented with a roast pig. She turned to her father, who she thought would have an expression of fury, but his face was stone-blank. Except for his eyes—they matched Aras.’

“Wow, what a lovely little thing,” said her uncle, his leer roving over her tall, slender figure. “You are quite lucky, brother.”

Her father shook his head, lip curling with disgust. “I am not so lucky. I’ve just found out she’s given herself up to some filthy little boy at that school of hers. See, brother, this is why you marry your daughter young, before she turns into a whore and disgraces your name.” 

“Ah, so that explains the sheet,” Aras chuckled, but no, that did _not _explain the sheet, not to Maral. “You know what you must do, brother. Determine her worth.”

They exchanged a few lines in their native tongue, setting Maral even more on edge. Contrary to her mother’s soft songs, these words were brute and condescending even when she didn’t understand a single one. Then Father abruptly turned back to her and commanded, “Undress.” 

She didn’t bother to still her trembling, so long as she obeyed. The idea of standing in her underwear in front of these two men was terrifying, but she did not want to send her father into a rage and slather concealer over an ugly black eye tomorrow morning. She pulled off her shirt, pushed down her leggings, and stood upright. 

Father was on his feet in the same second, striding toward her. He stopped about a foot away and gestured to her chest. “That comes off, too.” 

As Maral took it off, her long hair swung over her shoulders and over her breasts, flowing down to her waist and covering most of her torso. Her father stepped closer and gathered it at her neck, pulling it away.

“Come.” He seized her arm and pulled her around the desk. “You see, dear daughter, I must make sure you are still pure. A young girl without virginity is about as appealing as spoiled fruit.” 

Maral’s skin crawled at “virginity.” She recalled Mother saying once that her future husband would know if she lost it and discard her. Maral still had hers, but no way would she speak out of turn _now_. 

“Get up on the desk.” He pushed her toward the chair, where he sat while she propped herself up on the desk. He yanked down her underwear and spread her legs, leaving her sprawled bare over the white sheet. She wondered, rather calmly given the circumstance, whether there was anything more mortifying than your father and uncle seeing you naked. 

Blank-faced, Father reached out a hand and rubbed his knuckle over her shaved-bare labia, causing her to tingle all over. A hand from behind ran across her cheek and into her hair. “Her cunt looks nice and fresh from here,” Aras remarked.

“We’ll see,” her father replied before thrusting a finger into his daughter, eliciting a whimper from her. A second later, he withdrew it. 

“And?”

“Clear.”

Aras released her hair and joined Father in front of her. “Mm, she really does look like a sweet little virgin. But if there’s no blood, she’s been used before.”

“No, Father, I swear I’m a virgin!” Maral burst out against her better judgement. 

Her father simply covered her mouth, reached between her legs, and pinched the hood of soft flesh while Aras’ finger slid into her.

“Let’s get this cunt to squirt,” one of them said as two fingers rolled her clit under her hood in between forefinger and thumb. Meanwhile, Aras’ finger went deeper in and out. It was here where Maral’s mind went completely blank: the horror of the situation faded out completely, allowing her to relax and nearly enjoy the men’s hands working her cunt.

“Look how she moans like a slut,” Aras hissed, ramming her finger into her, stiffening her muscles and arching her back until fluid shot out of her slit and soaked the cloth below.

“Still no blood,” he announced, walking around the desk out of Maral’s view. Contrarily, Father no longer seemed to care about her virginity, ducking his head and dragging his tongue over her soaking inner lips. 

“Oh,” she cried, tilting her head back, letting it hang loose over the edge of the desk. Blood began to rush there, blurring out all sensation except her father’s mouth against her most tender flesh, his tongue sliding into her hole.

“Oh, ah, Daddy…” Maral was now in outer space, moaning around Aras’ finger dipping in and out of her mouth, slick with her salty-tangy juices. After a bit, Aras pulled it away and ran his hand over her breasts and up her neck. Between his teasing touch and her father lapping at her cunt, she was overwhelmed with pleasure.

“She tastes amazing,” her father breathed, his mouth smeared with fluid, a lock of silver-streaked black hair loose across his forehead. He stood up and mounted her, the tip of his cock against her throbbing folds. They wanted to swallow it up, but Maral was coming back down to Earth. _He is your father; this is so wrong… _

Another oddly logical voice: _Does it matter? Is it hurting you, his attention? _“No, please,” she whispered, eyes filling with tears.

“Hush,” he warned, covering her mouth and pushing his way into her. 

“That’s it, brother, give in and fuck her,” Aras prompted from behind her. “She’s already a whore anyway.”

At first, it was uncomfortable and Maral hated it and wanted it out, but after a few minutes, she grew wet again, relieving the pressure. Meanwhile, Aras was holding her head up with one hand, wrapping her hair around his cock with the other. In rhythm they both pumped, blocking out all else except greedy, vicious desire.

Her father’s cock was hitting a spot deep within her as sensitive as her clit, bringing her close to the brink again. Then Aras dropped her head and stepped closer. Her face was buried in his trousers for a blinding moment, but then a stream of hot fluid poured over her torso, running across her ribs and pooling between her bouncing breasts. Her father pulled on her nipples and slammed into her before releasing his own seed, filling her all the way up and even more so, stretching her stomach. It poured out of her, soaking the cloth and dripping off the desk.

Dizzy and fighting for breath, Maral stood up on wobbly legs, hot seed sloshing painfully in her bulging, heavy womb and running down her thighs. She was covered nearly all over with come and there was no way to get it off, so she forced her shirt and pants over damp, sticky skin.

The two men were seated in the armchairs, grinning and chatting. Maral knew they were mocking her. Letting her tangled, come-soaked hair drape over her face, she scurried out of the study and into the bathroom. Once behind the closed door, she peeled off her clothes and washed up until the fluid streaming from her sore cunt slowed and her belly was nearly back to flat, though there was a residue all over her the soap couldn’t wash off. 

Back in her room, cocooned in the blanket, Maral listened for footsteps, clenching her jaw. She realized she was still trembling. Through the utter mess in her head, she heard her phone signaling a text. Automatically, she reached for it and glanced at the white bubble.

Sam: _I’m still thinking of your smooth skin and pretty smile. _

Clutching it to her chest, Maral stared straight up at the ceiling. Her father’s seed was churning in her abdomen, nauseating her. Without thinking, she lifted her phone and hurled it across the room. It didn’t go very far, but at least it was away. Then she closed her swollen, puffy eyes and begged for sleep.


End file.
